One of the sayings my mom always told me was, “The first step is always the hardest.” I remember vividly how the phrase rang true when we moved to a new area, and I had to start a brand-new school. It was the first year the school was opening, so everything felt unfamiliar. But my mom knew how to ease the anxiety and make the unknown feel a little more exciting.

I still remember the magic of the American Girl store in Chicago like it was yesterday. My mom, grandma, sister, and I made the trip together, and in my little-girl eyes, that place was nothing short of a dream. Towering displays, endless dolls, matching outfits, it was like stepping into a storybook. But what really stuck with me wasn’t the shopping. It was teatime. We sat down with our dolls for a dainty little tea service, complete with tiny sandwiches, sweet treats, and fancy pink lemonade. I felt so grown-up and so full of joy, like the whole day had been made just for us.

There’s something special about back-to-school shopping, especially when you’re a kid. For me, it wasn’t just about getting new clothes, it was about the whole experience. My mom, my sister, and I would head out to the stores together, browsing the racks for the perfect outfits to kick off the school year. It wasn’t just about the clothes themselves but the feeling of fresh starts and new possibilities. I remember the excitement building up as we picked out new jeans, shirts, and shoes. And of course, my mom’s go-to saying, “Out with the old, in with the new,” would ring in my ears, marking the moment we’d leave behind the old school year and step into the next one with a little more confidence and style.

One of the sayings my mom used to always say when I was younger was, “We can do it the easy way or the hard way.” I remember hearing it a lot when I was in trouble, especially when I refused to apologize. I was super stubborn as a kid, if I fought with my sister or took something I shouldn’t have, I knew I’d messed up, but I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words “I’m sorry.” My mom would try to get me to apologize, and I’d either mumble something half-hearted like, “Fine, I’m sorry,” or insist, “I already said that,” hoping it would be enough. But it never was.

One of the sayings my mom always comes back to is, “Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.” Growing up, I didn’t always appreciate it. I’d hear it and feel like she was expecting the worst-case scenario, as if she didn’t believe in the good things that could happen. At the same time, it felt like a warning to brace for disappointment, and honestly, I didn’t always understand why she was so cautious. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize how much truth there is in this simple phrase–and how much love and care it really holds.

One of the sayings my mom often repeated to me when things got tough was, “All’s well that ends well.” Growing up, I always took it as a comforting phrase, but it wasn’t until I went through the hardest experience of my life that I truly understood its meaning. Back when I was in the final stretch of earning my teaching credential, the world seemed to collapse. The pandemic hit just as I was in the middle of my student teaching phase, and the school shut down completely. I was devastated, my dream of becoming a teacher suddenly seemed impossible. I remember crying every night, feeling like everything I’ve worked so hard for was slipping away.

When I was 16, I was nervous the entire time I took my behind-the-wheel test. From the moment I sat down in the driver’s seat, doubt started creeping in, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t ready. When I found out I failed, I was absolutely devastated. I remember thinking, Who fails their driver’s test? It felt like such a big deal, and I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and defeated. I just wanted to forget the whole thing.

One of my mom’s funniest sayings was, “If wishes were fishes, we’d all have gills.” She’d say it every time my sister and I would start with our endless ”I wish I had this” or “I wish we could do that.” At the time, I never thought much of it, it was just something she said when we were dreaming big about things we didn’t have. To us, it was just a funny way to shut down our constant wishful thinking. But I see now it was more than just a punchline, it was her way of giving us a little reality check.

One of the sayings my mom loved to remind us of when we were growing up was, “You can’t have your cake, and eat it too.” It usually came up whenever my sister and I tried to pull one of our classic tricks, pretending to be sick so we could skip school. The plan was simple: tell Mom we weren’t feeling well, stay home, and spend the day watching TV or playing. In our minds, it was the perfect win-win. But, of course, mom had other ideas.

One memory that still haunts me is the feeling of being completely lost and helpless. It’s the kind of thing that sticks with you, even when you try to shake it off. I can still remember the panic, the sense of time running out, and the worry that I might never find my way back. It’s hard to forget that gut-deep fear, even now.

Mom always used to say, “A small act of kindness makes a big difference.” I never quite understood the full weight of those words until one year, when my sister, my mom, and I put together care packages for people in need. It was through a school project, but it ended up being so much more than just a task. It turned into one of those moments that stayed with me, reminding me how even the smallest gestures can have a lasting impact.

Growing up, my mom had a way of turning any chore into something almost fun. She’d always say, “How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” At first, I had no idea what she meant, but it quickly became clear. Whenever my sister and I faced the daunting task of cleaning our rooms, instead of the usual “Clean your room!” which felt like a never ending mountain of work, she’d say “Pick a corner!” She made it a game where we’d focus on one small area at a time, and suddenly, the giant mess didn’t seem so overwhelming. It was all about breaking down the big tasks into little, manageable steps.